Won't Go Home Without You
by Angelustatt
Summary: Mystery Spot Coda. Sam is still recovering from that day and Dean doesn't know what to do to help him.


_A/N: Yeah, I know. I'm well overdue to update Amen. Trust me. The next chapter is still being written. Writer's block and real life keep conspiring to slow me down...but it will be up soon, I promise! LOL _

_Anyway, this was just a short bit to help clear my writer's block. I hope it's done the trick and I hope you enjoy. Title is borrowed from Maroon 5's song._

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Bobby Singer would have found the sight funny, if it the situation hadn't been so damn serious. At first glance, he would have sworn Sam was drunk out of his mind, watching the way the kid was stumbling, his legs no longer obeying his brain but following their own ideas of which way to go. Twice, Dean went to his knees trying to hold his brother up and make him walk, before Bobby got over to them and they carried Sam between them into Bobby's house.

" Dean, what the hell is going on? What was all that nonsense over the damn phone? Time loops? Tricksters?" Bobby grunted as the got into his living room and put Sam down on the sofa. The kid might be tall and lanky? But Sam was also solid muscle and therefore heavy as hell to carry around. He looked like hell too, huge dark circles under his eyes, just sheer exhaustion showing from the boy as he fought to keep his eyes open, his head snapping up every few minutes, startled, before sagging back towards his chest.

Dean collapsed down on the sofa beside his brother, looking exhausted himself and worried sick about Sam. "I didn't know what else to do, Bobby. He won't sleep. It's crazy. He just sits there all night, drinking coffee and watching me. Like the moment he closes my eyes, I'll vanish again."

"No!" Sam's head snapped up again, his eyes suddenly wide and frightened, his whole body tense until Dean place a hand on Sam's arm. " I'm here, Sammy…I'm right here, dude. It's okay."

It was like someone had switched off an electric current through Sam, his body sagging again, pure relief behind the tears brimming his eyes. His head rolled back for a moment, a confused look sliding over his face as he took in his surroundings, before he locked eyes with Bobby. " Bobby?"

" Yeah, Sam. It's me. You okay?"

The snort of laughter that left Sam was so bitter, so full of pain, it surprised Bobby. What the hell had that Trickster put this kid through to mess him up so badly?

" Is that really you, Bobby? You almost tricked me once before…" Sam smiled wryly for a moment, before his face crumpled, tears slipping down his cheeks. " I thought I'd really killed you…. I thought I had no one left."

"Sam?" Bobby glanced at Dean, but he could see the older Winchester was just as in the dark about this as he was. " You need sleep, Sam. How long's it been since you slept?"

" Couple of days….I..I think?" Sam mumbled, his head starting to sag down towards his chest before it snapped up again, his arms flailing out in each direction until they found Dean, found that contact and Sam was anchored again.

" Three days," Dean supplied tiredly, rubbing Sam's arm in a manner that reminded Bobby of when these two young men were nothing but boys.

"Three days? Dammit, Sam. You can't do that yourself. Now get yourself into the spare room and get some sleep. Both of you."

"No!" Sam snapped suddenly, his face dark, drawn. Determined. "I'm not sleeping. I'm fine."

" You're not fine, Sam. You're about as far from fine as your gonna get, boy."

" No. No, I'm not. I've been worse." Sam said quietly, shivering at the memory. Of a life full of emptiness, of nothing but killing and hunting down evil because there was light, no balance anymore. He'd been a zombie. Just cold, unfeeling flesh going through the motions of life without a heartbeat. His heart had died, bleeding out in some crappy parking lot while he begged to wake up. He'd lost Dean, had spent 3 months becoming his father, worse than his father. Because at least Dad had been fighting for his sons, he had someone that still loved him.

What had Sam been left with? Bobby? A voice on the other end of a phone line? Sam had kept his distance for Bobby's sake. Everyone seemed to die around Sam. Plunging that stake through Bobby back, staring at his body and praying he had been right? The loneliness that had wrapped itself around Sam in that moment had gutted him. Hollowed out what little had been left after Dean's death.

Sam understood now why Dean had sold his soul. Why he had refused to be the last Winchester standing. Everything was a lot sharper now. Clearer. "I need coffee."

"What? Sam I ain't giving you coffee! Dean will you talk some sense into your brother?" Bobby growled, seeing Dean watching Sam carefully. It wasn't like Sam to bottle things up like this. Not with his brother as well. Dean tended to play his cards close to his chest, not Sam. That boy had always worn his heart on his sleeve.

"Bobby, please. I need coffee." Sam pleaded, forcing himself to his feet, swaying for a moment before he seemed to find his balance with Bobby grabbing one arm, while Dean put a hand to his brother's back for support. "I've….I've gotta..go…go wash my face." He sounded confused, his brow furrowing with the effort of what he wanted to do.

"Hang on, dude…I'll walk you." Dean got to his feet.

Sam didn't argue like he normally would have, shrugging Dean away and telling him he could manage alone, thanks. There was no eye roll, no indignant rebuke. Just quiet acceptance and Bobby could swear he saw Sam even lean into his brother a little as Dean guided him towards the bathroom. Whatever the problem was, Bobby knew there would be no way to do anything about it while Sam was in this state.

He started up the percolator, pouring in a scoop of coffee grounds from a brand he knew the boys liked. It had always been John's poison of choice and Bobby had acquired a taste for it himself over the years. No days, the boys dropped by enough for him to warrant buying it again. Setting out three mugs, Bobby glanced over his shoulder and ensured Sam was busy, before he took a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and poured it into Sam's mug and a lesser shot into Dean's.

Dean appeared in the kitchen a moment after Bobby had slipped the whiskey back into the cupboard. The boy dropped into a seat at the kitchen table and sighed, rubbing a hand tiredly over his short bristled hair.

"You wanna tell me what you know, Dean?"

" I already told you on the phone, Bobby. Couple of days ago, we crossed paths with the Trickster again. By the way, whatever book told you how to kill him? Was wrong. Thanks for that." Dean growled, before sighing again and shaking his head. " Sorry, Bobby. I'm just tired, man. Sam's freaked and I don't know why? He won't talk to me about it. won't sleep. All I know, he that was caught in some freaky Ground hog day where I died over and over again. It's really shaken him up."

" But you think there's more to it than that?"

Dean quirked at eyebrow at the older hunter. " You've seen him! He's a freaking coma patient, Bobby. I'm scared he's gonna walk in front of a car or fall asleep in the shower and drown! I mean, I get why he's freaked. I do. But this? Whatever this is? It has to stop. He's hurting himself."

"Alright…alright. Calm down. We'll sort this out. Just…just take it easy, yourself." Bobby held up a hand to placate Dean.

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Sam stared at his reflection, finding it amusing that even in this state, he looked more alive, than he ever had in those three months only he would ever remember. He knew Dean was worried about him and Sam hated the thought that he was adding to his brother's stress so close to the deal coming due. But he was just so scared. Terrified that he would go to sleep…and wake up to find the day repeating again. Or worse. Wednesday. He would wake up to find it was Wednesday again and Dean would die for real again.

Sam had held his brother's lifeless body in that parking lot, his blood pooling around them, soaking into Sam's jeans. He had held Dean until the sirens where on top of them and there had been medics and police trying to gently coax Sam into handing Dean over. But he'd refused. Because he was supposed to wake up and then everything would replay…and Dean wouldn't be dead.

Sam hadn't even felt the needle as they sedated him, all he had known, was feeling dizzy. Everything had begun to fade out…and then they took Dean from him. Sam had awoken in the hospital. Alone. No classic rock playing. No Dean brushing his teeth. Just a hospital room where they were going to keep him overnight for observation. Worried about his mental state, apparently.

Escaping the hospital had been easy. Removing Dean's body from the morgue, proving a little trickier, but manageable. Then there had been the funeral pyre, just like Dad's. Dean had gone to Hell…just like Dad.

The following days, weeks, months, were a blur. Just pain and hunting and scouring everything Sam could find to summon the Trickster and make him pay for what he had done. For the loss of the little things that mattered. The classic rock that now caused Sam almost physical pain to listen to. The lack of mess in the bathroom. The tubes of toothpaste that cut Sam like a knife every time he saw how neatly he squeezed it. Because Dean was the one to be messy. He was the one that made the room reek of chili fries and left his socks in the sink. He was the one that lived life that way and without him, Sam couldn't bear it. So he'd become a neat freak. A control freak.

Anything else was just too much of a reminder of who was missing.

And then the Trickster had fixed it all. He'd sent Sam back to Wednesday and Dean was alive. But Sam couldn't shake what the god had said beforehand. About how he knew and Sam would find out.

What if these last few days were all part of the joke and the moment Sam closed his eyes, the moment he allowed himself to sleep…time reset again? Dean died again? Those three months became real again?

Sam couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

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The coffee was warm and comforting for both boys. They were sat side by side at the table, Bobby across from them, sipping his own mug. It took three cups, but finally, Bobby could see Sam's eyes drooping and this time, there was no startled snapping awake. This time, his head dropped to his chest and Sam slowly toppled to one side, allowing Dean to catch him. " Sammy?"

Dean looked over at Bobby as his brother sagged in his arms, alarm making his eyes widen to dinner plates.

" Relax, Dean. He's fine. I slipped some whiskey into his coffee to help him relax." Bobby assured him, coming around the table to help Dean get Sam up. The pair of them carried Sam to the spare room where two beds were waiting. It was an effort getting him onto a bed and Bobby stepped back afterwards, allowing Dean to make sure Sam had both legs on the bed before throwing a blanket over his brother.

" You boys stay as long as you need." Bobby gave Dean a nod, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dean sat down on the bed beside his brother, idly tucking the blanket in around him like Sam was five years old again. He looked so much younger when he was asleep and for the first time in the past few days, Sam was at peace. Not hovering, not watching Dean like a hawk if he needed to go the bathroom. Not following him to the car like a shadow, giving anyone that even looked in their direction a death glare that made people cross the road in an instant.

" Dude…what happened? What's eating away at you?" Dean asked softly, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. He went over to his own bed, sprawling out on his stomach, hand under his pillow even without his knife. It wasn't until he heard Sam's wet snores, that he was able to fall asleep himself.

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"Please…he's my brother…" Sam's voice was so broken, so desperate. Edged with tears.

Dean sat up immediately, finding his brother talking in his sleep, the blanket tangled around his body, knotted up in Sam's fist as he pleaded with whoever was in his dream. Moving over to Sam's bed, he laid a hand on Sam's chest and asked him softly, "Sammy? Hey, come on, dude. Wake up."

It was light outside but Dean had no idea what the time was. He rubbed at his eyes and looked at his watch, surprised to see that nearly 15 hours had passed since they had arrived at Bobby's. " Sammy…hey!"

Sam's eyes snapped open, red rimmed from crying. He locked onto Dean and sat up so suddenly, throwing his arms around Dean, that it almost drove the air from his brother's lungs.

Dean remained still, stunned. Sam knew how he felt about girlish displays of emotion…and now to have had two hugs this desperate? The same hugs he would get from Sam when they were kids and there'd been some hunt induced nightmare? It had Dean's heart pounding in his chest. He returned the hug, his mind racing. " Dude, you need to level with me. What's got you so freaked? Just how many Tuesdays did you have?"

Sam pulled back, fear in his eyes at that last sentence. "Enou--"

" No. Not this time, Sam. I want to know what the hell happened to make you this way."

" You died."

" Yeah, I got that much. I remember you being freaked, but not like this."

" No, Dean." Sam said seriously, a shaky breath shuddering through him at the memory. " You died. For real. The Trickster stopped the time loop…and it was Wednesday. And then you got shot in the parking lot and you died. I had to burn your body…I was on my own. Until I tracked the trickster down and made him take it all back."

" How long?"

" Three Months." Sam swallowed thickly, tears brimming his eyes again. He was so tired still, his body just worn out.

Dean didn't know what to say. Three months? He'd been dead that long? Sam had been alone for that long? Dean hadn't been able to bear his brother being dead for more than a couple of days. What had three months done to Sam? It was all making sense now and Dean wanted the Trickster dead more than ever. But going after him would only bring more trouble…would waste time better spent finding a way out of the deal.

" What….what day is it?" Sam asked quietly.

" It's Saturday."

" Saturday? You're sure?" Sam sounded almost childlike with the sudden hopeful lift in his voice. Did he dare believe that he'd slept and it wasn't Wednesday again?

Dean gave his brother a grin. "Yeah, I'm sure. Now get some more sleep, dude. You look like shit."

Sam laughed then and for Dean, it was the sweetest sound imaginable. "Looked in the mirror, yourself lately?"

"Hey…I always look good, dude. You're the one with untameable mop of hair." Dean teased, getting up off the bed. He stretched, hearing his spine pop before he collapsed back onto his own bed. A moment later, he turned his head to see Sam watching him again. "Dude…seriously."

Sam rolled over, but Dean had caught the scared look in his brother's eyes. This was going to take more than just a few days sleep to get over it for Sam. Dean laid there for a another moment, before he got up and went back over to Sam's bed. " Move over, Lurch." He curled up behind Sam, the same way that had done as kids, his presence soothing to his brother. " I'm not going anywhere, Sam. We're gonna beat this. You and me. Okay? Your brains and my looks…"

Beside him, Sam snorted quietly with laughter. "Yeah…okay."

They were both asleep again within minutes, still out like a light when Bobby checked on them several hours later.

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End file.
